


Defective

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Beating, Child Abuse, Ghosts, Head trauma, Incest, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Non-Explicit Rape, Oops, Rape, so this is actually quite triggering when i think about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Da said they were lucky to have even made it out of the womb. He said that they were the reason that mum wasn’t around. He said that one of them was sick. Defective. He’d only asked for one so one must be a curse and the other a blessing. One was sick. They’d know which one when it was time.</p><p>Jim knew when they turned five. Richard figured it out when they were six. It wasn’t until they were seven did anything happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defective

Da said they were lucky to have even made it out of the womb. He said that they were the reason that mum wasn’t around. He said that one of them was sick. Defective. He’d only asked for one so one must be a curse and the other a blessing. One was sick. They’d know which one when it was time.

Jim knew when they turned five. Richard figured it out when they were six. It wasn’t until they were seven did anything happen.

There was more blood that Jim had thought there would be. And noises, too. Screaming and grunting and sobbing. And the crack as da’s boot kept hitting Richard’s side and face and legs. His head looked like a moldy lemon, concave in places, dripping. His nose was bleeding and his eyes wouldn’t open, even if he tried.

“Jimmy!” he kept screaming, as if that would be any help. “Jimmy, save me, please! Jimmy!”

Da got bored with it soon, though and he grabbed a knife from the counter and stuck it in Richard’s throat and left. Blood was pooling around Richard’s head. It was soaking into the carpet and pooling there, spreading like an epidemic.

Jim sat by his hand and pressed on all the spots and were pressed inwards and thought about his his skull might look in an x-ray, his ribs were probably shattered. He wished he could cut him open and look at the damage.

“You shouldn’t have been so scared,” Jim told him, lifting up his shirt and looking at the bruises and cuts on his chest. “We both knew it was going to be you.”  _I shouldn’t be so scared_ , Jim told himself. I’d known it before him.

He wished Richard’s eyes had been open so he could close them, instead he just sat and waited for da to come back and use him like he usually did then leave again, Maybe he wasn’t coming back today. Maybe they were both dead. He hoped it was true.

–

They didn’t hold a funeral for Richard. Jim cried, though, even though he pretended not to. Big boys don’t cry. He was the better one, he was the one da had decided to save. He was the better one. He did not cry.

They buried him in the ground far away from their house. Far away from a town. Far away. Jim marked where he was buried with Richard’s book, even though he knew it would get wet and torn to pieces. He didn’t want Richard to be without his fairy tales.

–

Richard came back almost a two years later. Da still beat Jim and used him and he’d been held back in school a year. He was falling behind, not because he wasn’t smart but because his skull was broken and his arms bled and it hurt to breathe sometimes.

Jim was laying in bed after school, hiding from da and ignoring the screaming in his head, the blank and the nothing. He had a text book open next to him, he was trying to catch up but he knew it wasn’t going to work.

Richard was sitting on the bed next to him, giggling at him. Jim looked up and did not cry.

“You were defective,” Jim said.

“But so are you,” Richard said in return, picking up Jim’s text book and reading it to himself, his eyes moving slowly. He wasn’t seven anymore, he was nine, like Jim was.

“Why are you here?” Jim asked.

“I’m not here, I’m in your head,” Richard replied and grinned like he used to, smiling and leaning forward to kiss Jim. Jim tried not to be scared or skeptical, his baby brother was back, he was here and alive (sort of).

“Richie,” Jim whimpered, hugging Richard close to his chest. “I’m sorry. I should have said I was you. I should have been hurt and died, you would be so much happier than I am right now.”

“I would have missed you,” Richard said against Jim’s chest. “I can’t be hurt now. I love you, Jimmy.”

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Jim sobbed, giving up on being better. He cried. Richard looked at him sadly.

“You really shouldn’t be,” he said quietly then grinned, already lightening the mood. “Now I can help you with your homework.”

–

Richard didn’t leave his side. Jim didn’t  _let him_ leave his side. He made Richard sit enxt to him on the floor in class and let him draw and he made Richard hide with him at recess and he made Richard hold his hand when he walked home and he made Richard stay when da came home. Richard didn’t like staying when da showed up.

Jim was starting to suspect he was a ghost and da would see him if he stayed. He tried making da see Richard once, but it hadn’t worked.

So Jim decided he was truly insane now and it was a bit comforting. He always knew he was odd but now he had proof and better yet this proof slept with him and held him when he had nightmares and protected him, even though when Richard was alive it was always the other way around.

–

Jim fell asleep in science one day, he was thirteen, the first time he fell asleep in school. He’d already been through the topic twice before, the only reason they held him back this year was because he didn’t want to do his homework because it was boring.

When he woke up everyone one was gone, including Richard.

Jim nearly screamed, he wasn’t supposed to be gone, Richard was supposed to stay with him, he’d fallen asleep, what if Richard was gone for good now? He stood up and ran outside, looking around frantically for him. He was sitting in the corner.

With someone.

Jim ran up to them, nearly shrieking.

“Go away!” he screamed to the boy. “Go away!”

“Jimmy, wait,” Richard pleaded, putting a hand on his brother’s arm. Jim turned to him and screamed, pushing him back, then turning to the boy who was just looking at him.

“You were talking to him,” Jim hissed.

The boy laughed and nodded almost uncertainly. “Yeah… I was, yes.”

“How?”

The boy shrugged. He was ginger and tall and had lots of freckles. Jim didn’t know his name but he was in the same class.

“Jimmy,” Richard said again and Jim didn’t seem to hear. He just screamed and attacked the boy, launching himself at him and slamming his fists against his face, even when he felt squishy blood beneath his hands and even when the boy screamed and screamed and screamed.

A teacher had to come and pull Jim off of the boy before he stopped hitting him. Both he and Richard were crying, though Richard’s tears were loud and shaking and Jim’s tears were quiet and subdued. Jim was glad no one else could hear Richard. He sounded so sad.

—-

The teachers asked Jim questions. They asked him why he hit Carl and why he was crying and if anything bad had happened to him and if daddy ever touched him wrong and if mummy was there and didn’t you used to have a brother?

Jim didn’t say anything. Richard was sitting next to him. He was on the floor, his tear stained cheek resting on Jim’s leg. Jim wanted to kick him off but he wouldn’t. Richard had to be close and safe and not talking to anyone else. Jim was the only freak who got him, not some stupid, young,  _ginger_  boy.

“Your behavior had been unacceptable, James. You’re slacking off,” the teacher told him. “We’ve warned you before but this fit has been the last straw.”

“Don’t call da,” Jim said immediately. Richard stared up at him with wide eyes, shaking his head numbly.

“What?” the teacher said.

“Nothing,” Jim mumbled. “I’m sorry, I… I just… I was gonna cause trouble but I don’t want to anymore.”

“Maybe you need to see a councilor,” the teacher sighed. Jim shook his head, Richard nodded.

“You do,” he whispered. “You’re sick, Jimmy.”

Jim snarled at him but didn’t say anything. Talking to Richard made people look at him strangely and he didn’t want the teacher to know he was sick, to know Richard was still with him.

—-

He was suspended. For three days he couldn’t come to school which really was alright right with him but da hit him until he threw up and couldn’t see straight then pushed him against the floor and fucked him.

It was alright, though, Jim told himself. Richard was there sobbing with him and held him when he sat in the cold shower. Jim tried not to cry and was able to pretend he wasn’t because the cold shower was washing the heat and tears from his cheeks.

Richard scrubbed him clean and put him to bed and lay next to him and kept him warm.

–

Jim didn’t remember the next few days. He woke up in the locker room, digging through Carl’s locker. The boy. He knew why he was here, he had to switch the medicine in Carl’s inhaler and he can’t remember why he knew this. It happened sometimes, even before Richard came back. Even before Richard died. He’d black out and wake up and  _know_ things.

He found the inhaler and took out the medicine, putting in the one he had in his back pocket. He was wearing gloves. Richard was behind him, sobbing and begging him to stop, to put the medicing back but Jim knew what he was doing and he knew he had to.

Carl would tell. Carl knew about Richard, Carl would tell.

“He was joking, Jimmy,” Richard was screaming. “Jimmy, you don’t need to do this! Jimmy!”

Jim just told him to shut up and went back home. Tomorrow was the weekend. Tomorrow Carl had a swim meet.

He had to get home before someone saw him.

–

It was on the news on Saturday evening. Richard cried when he saw and Jim laughed.

“He didn’t need to  _die_ ,” Richard sobbed into Jim’s shoulders and Jim hissed at him.

“Yes he did, he was going to tell.”

“Jimmy,” Richard said. “Stop it, please. This is why da killed me… He didn’t want me to do these things and he thought I was going to. The only reason he didn’t kill you was because he thought I was dumber… And I was…”

Jim was breathing hard now, air entering his lungs in gasps. He didn’t know what to do because what Richard was saying was true. He was a fuck up, he should have died and he should be buried in a forest with a rotting book of fairy tales, not Richard.

“I’m sorry,” Jim said even though he wasn’t.

“It’s okay,” Richard replied, even though it wasn’t.


End file.
